Different
by KellyJade
Summary: It's an impulse, an undeniable need. And by this point, we just aren't going to go on without it.


Alright everyone. This one's a tiny bit out of the ordinary, and I can understand if the pairing here is too much weirdness for some people. But this occurred to me… and I like it. And I had to write it.

Don't blame me. Blame Kenzi and her inexplicable ability to be so sexy.

I don't own her, Bo or Lost Girl, unfortunately.

From the outside, I don't suppose anyone can see anything different about us. Of course there's the supernatural factor, and the abandoned warehouse thing. But that's not the type of 'different' we're really trying to keep under wraps.

It's weird, but it's not even like we talk about it ourselves. We honestly just don't feel the need to. Why complicate our daily routine? We wake up in the morning, and she'll eat a couple bowls of cereal, as she's prone to do. I check my messages, and run different cases by her. Sometimes she'll show interest, and sometimes she'll scoff and decide "Ugh, I'm really not feeling the whole 'enraged harpy on the loose' today."

Sometimes we'll skive off work, and just spend the whole day together, hanging out. We watch TV, and talk about various topics of drama, and not drama, in our lives. Sometimes we order pizza, and she flirts with the delivery guy. I don't even feel weird about that.

It usually doesn't start til around midnight. Maybe she's had a couple of drinks, and I can hear her words get softer around the edges. And I can feel her movements toward me start to slowly change.

It's like this. In the daytime, around the house, around people, wherever; we don't shy away from touching each other. Why should we? We're comfortable with each other and people know that. We know that. When I walk into a room, I'll squeeze her shoulders, or when I fall asleep on the couch, she'll jump on me and wake me up.

But around midnight, we get… different.

Tonight, we've been sitting here, watching a movie. There's been no bar hopping or case solving, so we're both feeling lazy and relaxed. I watch the main character in the movie walk out into the rain.

And then I can feel as she moves her arm from its former position on the couch, and runs her finger slowly down my thigh. When I turn toward her, she's looking at me with the sort of intensity that makes a shiver run down my spine. I gasp as her fingers start on a different task.

Then we go upstairs, I lead her into my room, and for a good remainder of the night I fuck my best friend with an animalistic fiery passion.

I know it's surprising. I know that no one suspects it; no one for one second thinks we've even _considered_ doing what we do. But we do. Every night.

The first time it happened, god was I ever afraid I would kill her. This was even before I started getting treatments, even before I learned a little bit of self control. I don't know why it's different with her.

But it is. When I'm with her, I don't feed. I don't even get the instinct. I don't know, maybe it's because she's my best friend. Maybe it's because I know her better than I know myself sometimes.

It's probably medically relevant. We should probably tell Lauren, or someone, so the Fae can add this weird little quirk into all of their succubus theories.

We won't though. Because we're terrified that would mean we'd have to stop.

And I can't stop. I've accepted this by now. I'm lying in bed next to her, watching her slight chest rise and fall slowly with her breathing. Her skin is alabaster pale, and when she's got no clothes on I sometimes feel like she's a completely different person; she's usually so wrapped up in her various goth girl outfits.

A solitary ray of sunshine comes in through the window, and it falls on her face. She moves beside me, waking. Her eyes open, she blinks, and then she sees I'm awake. She smiles.

I don't know how she does it, but I'm immediately caught up in her eyes. Lined with dark black still from yesterday, they're pale, striking blue. Deep, and dragging me in.

Sometimes I get lost looking into her eyes. Particularly when I'm holding her against me naked in the dark, and we lock gazes as she moans my name in pleasure.

"Good morning," she tells me. "Watching me sleep, huh?"

I grin back, still lost in icy blue. "I have stalker-ish tendencies."

She pulls back the covers, and slides out of my bed. She'll go back to her room, get dressed, and be in the kitchen with an entire box of cereal within the next half hour. She takes her time walking to the door of my room though. I suspect she does it because she knows I'm watching her go. As she gets to the hallway and opens the door, she looks back at me with a playful smirk. And then she's gone, and I'm alone.

I fall back against my pillows, running a hand through my hair. I think back to last night, and smile slightly as I remember particular details. Then I sigh as I hear her banging around in the next room, trying to find a pair of pants that haven't been torn off and forgotten about on my bedroom floor.

Okay, it's not the most functional relationship. Come to think of it, it's probably not functional at all. We should break it off; stop it before it gets too complicated.

But we can't stop. _I_ can't.

I just can't stop fucking Kenzi.


End file.
